


Bedeviled

by ellerkay



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4669907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam gets put into the mental hospital, Dean calls on the Doctor for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedeviled

**Author's Note:**

> Set during "The Born-Again Identity," with some dialogue from the episode worked in.

As he left Sam’s room, Dean pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed. He listened to the other phone ring. And ring.  
  
“Bastard,” he muttered. “Never picks up his fucking phone.”  
  
“If you’ve called this number, you know who I am,” said the recording of a cheerful voice with an English accent. “Leave a message with your name, location, and approximate point in time, and I’ll get back to you when I’m not busy saving the universe.”  
  
“It’s Dean,” said Dean, after the beep. His voice was strained, but he tried his best to hide it. “If you get this, get your ass over here.” He glanced at Sam through the window in the door. Sam was still sitting on the bed, eyes red, face pale and drawn. “Believe me when I say we need a doctor.”  
  
He gave the date and the hospital’s address, then hung up.  
  
***  
  
“I deserved to die,” Castiel said. “Now, I can’t possibly fix it. So why did I even walk out of that river?”  
  
“Maybe to fix it,” Dean said. “Wait.”  
  
He opened the Impala’s trunk and pulled out Castiel’s trenchcoat, holding it out to him. Castiel looked at it for a long moment.  
  
“Cas, take it,” Dean said insistently. “You have to – ”  
  
There came a sound, then, and Dean’s head whipped around, his face brightening.  
  
“Doctor,” he said, and took off running down the hill.  
  
“Dean?” Castiel fluttered down to meet him at the bottom of the hill. “What is it?”  
  
Dean looked over Castiel’s shoulder. “Get out of the way,” he said, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward a couple steps. In front of them, a blue box faded into existence. Dean shoved Castiel’s trenchcoat into his hands; Castiel looked down at it, then slowly put it on.  
  
Dean strode forward and hammered on the door of the box. “Doctor!” he shouted. The door swung open and a young man in a sport coat and a bowtie poked his head out.  
  
“Dean!” The man smiled and embraced Dean, kissing him on each cheek in turn.  
  
“Doctor, hey,” Dean said, suffering the embrace with a ‘wtf’ look on his face. “Thanks for coming.”  
  
“Of course!” The Doctor smiled hugely. “Well, introduce me to your friends!”  
  
Dean looked at Cas, then at Meg, who had ambled up behind them. “Right, friends,” he muttered. “Uh, this is Cas. Castiel.”  
  
“I am an angel of the Lord,” Castiel said solemnly. “Or…I used to be.” He looked abashed. The Doctor embraced him and kissed both his cheeks. Castiel looked faintly surprised.  
  
“An angel, are you? Met a few of those. Well, kind of; they were more the weeping sort. I’m sure you’re nothing like them,” the Doctor assured him.  
  
“Thank you,” Castiel said, confused.  
  
“You’re the type that watches over this planet, aren’t you?” The Doctor smiled at him. “Much appreciated. I can’t have an eye on it all the time, you know.”  
  
Dean coughed. “And this is Meg,” he said. “She’s a demon.”  
  
“You’re friends with a demon? Dean, I’m proud of you. You’re overcoming your prejudices.”  
  
Dean glared. “She’s not my friend. I’m just working with her. She’s on our side.” He gave Meg a suspicious side-eye. “For now.”  
  
“You’re not a very trusting person, Dean,” Meg drawled. “Has anyone ever told you that?”  
  
The Doctor stepped towards Meg with his arms outstretched, but she put up a hand. “You can skip the hug,” she said.  
  
“Skip the hug?” The Doctor frowned. “If you say so. Your loss. So!” He rubbed his hands together. “What are we doing here?”  
  
“We’re fixing Sam,” Dean said.  
  
“Fixing him? What’s wrong with him?”  
  
Dean sighed. “He went to Hell and came back without his soul, and when we shoved it back in him Death had to build a wall around his memories of the place, but now the wall’s gone and he’s having some kind of a breakdown where he sees Lucifer all the time.” He looked at the Doctor with pleading eyes. “Doc, I don’t know what’s going to happen to him if we can’t make it better.”  
  
The Doctor nodded thoughtfully. “Never a dull moment with you lot, is there? Of course there isn’t; that’s why I like you. All right. Soul in. Wall down. I doubt it would’ve lasted forever, anyway. Sounds like more of a temporary solution, but maybe if I knew more about how it disappeared…do we know what happened?”  
  
Everyone was silent for a moment.  
  
“It was me,” Castiel said finally. “I removed it.”  
  
The Doctor stared at him for a beat. “You removed it?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “I assume you don’t mean brick by brick, in a way that would allow him integrate to the memories over time?”  
  
“No. I tore it down in an instant.”  
  
The Doctor turned away for a moment, then wheeled back around. “Why?” he demanded. “What would make you do something like that?”  
  
Castiel looked pained. “I have made many mistakes – ”  
  
“Yes, you obviously have!” The Doctor stepped closer to him. “Sam Winchester is my friend, and if you’ve done something that can’t be healed – ”  
  
“Hey, hey!” Dean interjected, stepping between them. “This isn’t helping anything. Cas fucked up big time, but he’s gone through some shit, too, okay? He just five minutes ago recovered from a long bout of amnesia where he thought he was human – ”  
  
The Doctor looked curious now, despite himself. “You were fob-watched?” he said.  
  
Castiel inclined his head to the side, puzzled. “I am not familiar with the use of that word as a verb,” he said.  
  
“Doctor!” Dean shouted. “We don’t have time for your weirdness right now! Sam’s in there, and there are probably more demons inside – ”  
  
“I should go find him, and make sure he’s safe,” Castiel said, and disappeared.  
  
The Doctor looked at Dean, eyebrows raised.  
  
“He does that,” Dean said. “Let’s get inside.”  
  
***  
  
They ran into Sam’s room to find Castiel gently laying Sam’s giant frame down on the bed. Sam was conscious, but his eyelids were fluttering, and whenever his gaze focused, he was staring at nothing. Dean rushed to his side.  
  
“Sam,” he said urgently. Sam looked right through him. “Sammy!”  
  
Sam shook his head. “Please,” he mumbled. “Just leave me alone.”  
  
Dean took a step back, looking stricken. Castiel touched his shoulder.  
  
“I don’t believe he knows who you are,” he said.  
  
“Well, then do something,” Dean snapped. “Fix him! Put the wall back up!”  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
“What the hell do you mean, you can’t?”  
  
“I mean there’s nothing left to rebuild.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because it crumbled.” Castiel looked sorrowful. “The pieces got crushed to dust by whatever’s happening inside his head right now.”  
  
“Not a problem,” the Doctor said firmly. Dean looked at him in disbelief.  
  
“How exactly is that not a problem?” he demanded.  
  
“We were never going to put the wall back up,” the Doctor said.  
  
“I was,” Castiel said.  
  
“No, you weren’t. Silly solution, walling things off. Maybe necessary for awhile, but it’s like a bandage. If you keep it on forever – never let the wound see the air – it’ll never get the chance to heal properly.”   
  
The Doctor sat down on the bed. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and shone the light into Sam’s eyes. Sam blinked a few times, but didn’t react otherwise. The Doctor glanced at the screwdriver, then tucked it back in his pocket and rubbed his hands together.  
  
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s see what’s going on inside.” He placed his fingers gently on Sam’s temples and closed his eyes.  
  
“What’s he doing?” Castiel whispered.  
  
“He does this freaky Vulcan mind-meld thing,” Dean replied.  
  
“What does telepathy have to do with the Roman god of fire?”  
  
“It’s Star Trek, Cas.”  
  
“I don’t understand.”  
  
“Yeah, I know you don’t.”  
  
***  
  
Inside Sam’s head, the Doctor found that the room Sam thought he was in was identical to the room they were actually in, which the Doctor took as a good sign. He glanced over his shoulder at Dean and Castiel, but through Sam’s eyes, they looked like two iterations of one man; they were whispering to each other and laughing. This was less of a good sign.  
  
He heard a book shut next to him.  
  
“Who are you?” a voice asked curiously. It was a third iteration of the same man. This one didn’t correspond to anyone actually in the room.  
  
“Lucifer, I presume?” the Doctor said, smiling a little. “You’re smaller than the last one I met.”  
  
“Doctor?” Sam’s voice was hoarse and strained. “Are…are you here?”  
  
“Yes, I’m here,” the Doctor said. “I’m in your mind. You’re not recognizing me – or anyone – who’s outside of it.”  
  
Sam swallowed. “I can’t get rid of him,” he said.  
  
“Oh, this is hurtful!” Lucifer said. “I feel like we’ve gotten so close.”  
  
“He’s not real, you know,” the Doctor said quietly. Sam gave a humorless chuckle.  
  
“I know,” he said. “It doesn’t help. I can’t shut him up. I can’t stop hearing him.”  
  
Lucifer waved the copy of “The Three Little Pigs” he was holding. “I don’t feel like you fully appreciate storytime, Sammy. Maybe we’ll try Dante’s Inferno next.”  
  
Sam closed his eyes, sighing.  
  
“You’re a lot of trouble, for a hallucination,” the Doctor said to Lucifer.  
  
“Flatterer,” Lucifer beamed.  
  
“How long since you’ve slept?” the Doctor asked Sam. Sam shook his head.  
  
“Oh, weeks, hasn’t it been, sweetheart?” Lucifer answered for him. “I just can’t bear to let him go for the night.” He leaned in, batting his eyelashes, and kissed Sam’s hair. Sam flinched.  
  
“Take a step back, now,” the Doctor said in a low voice.  
  
“Who were you, again?” Lucifer asked.  
  
The Doctor rose slowly to his feet. “I’m the Doctor. I’m the oncoming storm. I’m the last of the Timelords, and I am Sam’s friend.” He took a step towards Lucifer. “Move back. Now.”  
  
Lucifer pulled back slightly and looked the Doctor up and down. Then he sighed and flopped down in the chair again, as if he’d been planning to do so all along. “You’re a man in a stupid bowtie.”  
  
“The bowtie is cool,” Sam said. He still sounded tired, but his voice was a little stronger now. The Doctor grinned delightedly and clapped him on the shoulder, sitting on the bed with him again.  
  
“That’s right!” he said. “Sam, I don’t want you to worry. We’re going to get you better.”  
  
“Oh, dear, don’t give him hope,” Lucifer murmured. “Actually, on second thought – go ahead. It’ll be even funnier when he loses it again.”  
  
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold on,” Sam said, looking beseechingly into the Doctor’s face.  
  
“Longer than you think. We’re going to fix this, Sam. I promise.”  
  
***  
  
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold on,” Sam muttered. It was the first thing he or the Doctor had said since the Doctor had put his fingers on Sam’s head. Castiel saw Dean’s face fall, then tighten into a grimace of worry and pain. Castiel looked at Sam again.  
  
“This isn’t a problem I can make disappear,” he said slowly. “But I may be able to shift it.” He moved towards the bed.  
  
“Wait, what?” Dean said. “What does that mean?”  
  
“It’ll be better this way,” Castiel said, not looking at him. “I’ll be fine.”   
  
“Cas, at least wait until the Doctor tells us what’s up!”  
  
“Tell Sam…tell Sam I’m sorry I ever did his to him.” Castiel reached toward Sam’s forehead. Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm, but he couldn’t hope to match the angel’s strength.  
  
In Sam’s mind, the room suddenly flared with a bright red-orange light. Lucifer looked around, alarmed. Sam cried out in pain, and the Doctor sprang to his feet.  
  
“No, no, no!” he said frantically. “Castiel, wait! Don’t do this!”  
  
 _I have to,_ came Castiel’s voice, from everywhere and nowhere. _This is my responsibility. My fault. My burden to carry._  
  
The Doctor was thrown out of Sam’s mind as the light flared even brighter.  
  
“Castiel, we can find another way!” he shouted, grabbing his arm, but it was too late. Castiel stumbled away from him, fear in his eyes.  
  
“Would someone tell me what the hell is happening?” Dean shouted.  
  
“Dean?” Sam said weakly, and Dean’s head snapped in his direction.  
  
“Sammy?” he said, all the fury gone out of his voice. He went to Sam’s side.  
  
The Doctor knelt in front of Castiel, putting his fingers on his temples. Castiel shivered, staring into his face in terror. After a moment the Doctor stood up again, turning back to the Winchesters, his expression sad.  
  
“Well, Doc?” Dean said. “Did Cas just do what I think he did?”  
  
“That depends,” the Doctor said heavily. “What do you think he did?”  
  
“I think he took Sam’s crazy.”  
  
The Doctor considered this for a moment. “That’s…not a bad way of putting it,” he said. “But really, the transference of the psycho-energetic thought form that Sam had manifested as his mental –”  
  
Dean waved frantically. “Stop, stop,” he said. “I hate when you get going like that. He took Sam’s crazy; that’s enough information for me.” He looked at Castiel, who was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees, staring straight ahead. “Can you help him?”  
  
The Doctor sighed. “When I was in Sam’s mind, Sam recognized me. Castiel was much farther gone. Right now, I don’t think he wants help.”  
  
“Fuck,” Dean muttered.  
  
Meg appeared in the doorway. “I just killed about a dozen demons,” she announced. “What have you bozos been up to?”  
  
***  
  
“Well, thanks, Doc,” Dean said, as they approached the Tardis.  
  
“For what?” the Doctor said, a little sadly. “I didn’t end up doing any good here.”  
  
“Thanks for trying, I guess. For, y’know, showing up.” Dean leaned against the Tardis’ frame and sighed. “Some days, that’s all any of us can manage.” He rubbed his temples. “What the hell am I going to do about Castiel?”  
  
“Leave him,” the Doctor advised. Dean frowned at him.  
  
“What do you mean, leave him?”  
  
“Just for now. Trust me. I saw inside his head. There’s nothing you can do for him, for the time being.”  
  
“But I can’t just – ”  
  
“I’ll check in on him,” the Doctor offered. “Pop in every week or so.”  
  
Dean gave him a look. “You’re going to remember to do that every week?”  
  
“I’ll do it right now.”  
  
Dean’s shoulders relaxed marginally. “Right. You’ve got that DeLorean box. Okay. Okay, that’d be great. Thanks.”  
  
The Doctor embraced him and solemnly kissed both his cheeks.  
  
“Is this, like, a thing you do now?” Dean asked. “Cause you can stop.”  
  
“Take care of yourself, Dean,” the Doctor said, unlocking his ship and stepping inside. “Call me if you need me.”  
  
Dean tried to smile. “I always do.”


End file.
